A Way Out
by Junior14623
Summary: Faced with the possibility of the disbanding of his team, Special Agent Gibbs calls on an old friend to help him keep his family together. WARNING: Contains consensual punishment non-sexual spanking of adults... Don't like, Don't read!


Special Agent Jethro Gibbs sank onto his couch, burying his face in his hands. _Could anything have possibly gone worse?_ He thought. His team was being broken up and disbanded: Ziva was being sent back to Israel, McGee exiled to the land of misfit technicians, and Tony, his pseudo-son, was leaving tomorrow for 6 months aboard the U.S.S. Ronald Reagan. _At least he spared me Abby_, he thought, ruefully. _I couldn't lose four; losing three may be survivable, but not four._

He racked his brain, trying to come up with a solution. He cursed the new "Director" of NCIS for not even giving his team, his family, time to mourn the loss of Jenny before ripping them apart. He felt tears burn in his eyes as her face suddenly flooded his mind. _No_, he told himself sharply, _you can't get caught up in thinking about her now. You have to figure out a way to save our kids. _He rolled his eyes. _There, I've finally said it… Our kids, Jenny. _ In the back of his mind, he heard Abby's voice, _"The kids don't like it when Mommy and Daddy fight."_ _ I have to find a way to save our kids and salvage what's left of our family._

The solution hit him all at once. _I promised myself I would never do something like that… But it might damn well be the only way!! _He persuaded himself,_ you _have_ to get the order rescinded and you have to act _NOW. _Once they're gone, you might never be able to put this back together_. _Not to mention you're willing to break just about any other rule that exists to get what you want…_

He set aside his reluctance and flipped open his cell phone, dialing a direct line to the Pentagon.

"General Stevens."

"Tom, it's Jethro Gibbs."

"Gunny!! How the hell are you?"

"I need your help, Tom." Gibbs got straight to the point, "I hate the thought of going above somebody's head or behind somebody's back, it's… it feels cowardly some how… but I need your help to retract an order from the top of NCIS."

Four-star General Thomas R. Stevens motioned the young soldier he had been meeting with out of his office, and listened intently as his usually-curt former CO explained the situation at hand at length and in detail.

"So you want me to try and keep your team together, and if not together, then at least in Washington."

"If it's possible."

"Well, it's not going to be easy, Gunny, but you know I'll do the best I can. I've never forgotten how you helped me out. Give me two hours."

"Will do." Gibbs closed his cell phone, placed it gently on the table, and again buried his face in his hands. The thought of one of _his_ Marines in the Pentagon on the case made him feel somewhat better, even though he was blatantly usurping the chain of command. _He _does_ owe me a favor, after all._ Although the situation at hand was about as grim as it could get, Gibbs couldn't suppress a wry grin at the thought of the time he had pulled the then-young Marine's butt out of the fire. _Well_, he snorted with laughter, _kind of._

Flashback to 18 years earlier…

"Gibbs!" A much-younger Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs, United States Marine Corps, snatched the phone off the hook in his bunk. It was 4am on a Saturday, and whoever was calling had better have a damned good reason for waking him up on his day off. His platoon had just gotten back from the Gulf War and he was enjoying his first weeks of semi-relaxation.

"Uhhh… Gunny… Sir…" A small voice stammered on the other end.

"Spit it out, Marine!" Gibbs snapped.  
"Sir, it's Private Stevens, I'm…" the 19 year old trailed off.

"Stevens, what's going on, are you hurt?" Gibbs asked, slightly less sharply.

"No, sir," _but I'm going to be when you get your hands on me. _He took a deep breath. _Best just say it fast and get it over with_. "Sir! I'm downtown in lockup, sir! I was pulled over for DUI!" _Oh, my God, did I just say that to Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs? I plead insanity, Your Honor. Exhibit A: The words that just came out of my stupid mouth!! _

"I'll be right down." Gibbs growled before the phone cut off.

The next 15 minutes were hellish for the young Marine. There was no denying the absolute fury he had heard in his CO's voice. _Why did you call him? _He moaned in his head. _Well, who the hell else were you going to call?! _He snapped back at himself. Tom couldn't remember a time in his life when he felt worse, and it didn't help that he was so drunk the room was spinning, even with his head buried in his hands. He was disgusted with himself for acting in a way that no Marine should. _Not that it matters now… I'll be dishonorably discharged for this. _

Had it been just about any other subordinate, Gibbs would have stormed into the holding room, bellowing his disgust and displeasure with both the Marine's behavior and at getting dragged out of bed at four in the morning. But he knew something must be seriously wrong with Tom to make him act like this. Apart from a few minor pranks and goof-offs, Gibbs had almost never had to reprimand the usually-responsible young man.

Gibbs stopped at the door and drew his breath in sharply at the sight of Stevens. He was sitting on the bench, head in his hands, fingers gripping his hair, shoulders hunched and tense. He looked so young slumped behind the bars. Tom heard him, and snapped his head upwards.

"Sir," he staggered to his feet, "Sir, I am so sorry, sir."

He didn't even try to come to attention as Gibbs motioned for the officer to unlock the cell.

"I… I don't know…I just… I'm so sorry…" Tom babbled, gesticulating wildly and reeling towards the open door. Gibbs caught him before he smashed his head on the bars.

"Come on, Tom," he said, softly, throwing his arm around the young man, holding him steady. "Let's get you back to base."

"Sir," pain shone in his eyes, "I'm going to be discharged, sir… They're going to court marshal me and I'm done for, and…"

"Tom!" Gibbs cut him off sharply, steering him towards the exit, "The officers have decided not to press charges, provided you _never_ even _think_ about driving while impaired again or touching a drop of alcohol before you're legally of age."

Tom flashed a grateful glance backwards, though no one was there to receive it.

"And I have assured those officers that _I_ will personally make sure of that." Gibbs whispered in his ear, dangerously.

Tom felt fear suddenly wash over him. Although he had never experienced it first hand, everyone knew about the un-orthodox methods of discipline sometimes doled out in the Corps, especially to young recruits. He felt as if he should struggle against the strong hands holding him upright, protesting that he was no child and could take care of himself and handle whatever the court would throw at him, but he was so tired he resigned himself to however terrible his fate may be, and allowed himself to be half-carried to Gibbs' car.

When Tom woke, it took a minute to remember where he was and why. The fact that he was in Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs' bed was a major clue. He groaned.

"Yeah, I bet that's how you're feeling right now." Gibbs stepped into the room, a glass of water in each hand. He handed one to the younger man, who downed it gratefully.

"Sir, I…" Tom began.

"Stevens, I don't want to hear it. Not yet, anyway. First you're going to take these," he slapped two aspirin into one hand and the second glass of water into the other, "and then you're going to go back to sleep."

"Yessir." Tom groggily followed orders, and then slipped back into unconsciousness.

At about three that afternoon, Tom's eyes snapped open. Apart from the fact that he knew he was basically on death row and he really had to pee, he felt pretty good. He snuck into the bathroom, hearing the Gunny in the kitchen. When he emerged, Gibbs had just set a plate of sandwiches on the table. He motioned for Tom to sit and eat. After realizing how hungry he was, Tom did so, silently.

After wolfing down several sandwiches, Tom dared a glance across the table at his CO. Now that all of his pressing needs had been taken care of, his nerves started to take over.

"Sir."

"Stevens."

"Can we talk, sir?"

Gibbs just stared flatly at him. "Go ahead and talk, Stevens."

"Sir, I have… I have absolutely no excuse for the way I acted last night. And… can you just… Can we…"

Gibbs raised his eyebrow.

"Can we just get it over with, sir?" Tom blurt out.

Gibbs put what was left of his fifth sandwich back on his plate, and looked intently at the young man.

"No."

Tom's face contorted with shame and frustration.

"Not until you tell me what the hell was wrong with you last night. And if you tell me _nothing_ I will…" he let the unsaid threat hang.

Tom opened and closed his mouth a few times, and sighed once.

"Start from the beginning, Stevens." Gibbs prompted, almost gently.

"I had permission to leave the base last night, so I drove up to surprise my girl. I hadn't seen her since we left for the Gulf. We've… We had been together for almost three years." Tom paused and drew a deep breath.

"When I got there, I went up to the door, and her Mom answered it, and she gave me this look, and I knew something was wrong. And then Nicky came down the stairs and her mouth dropped open. She was engaged, Gunny!! I dated her for three years, I took her to both the Junior and Senior Prom, and in the ten months we were gone she went and got engaged to some guy over at the junior college!!" Tom took a deep breath, composed himself, and continued.

"So, I went to this bar that's right up the street. I knew they would serve me, I was in dress uniform. Nicky always liked… Anyway, the bar tender just kept pouring, and I kept drinking, and when I realized I needed to be back at base, I just got in my car and drove off. I wasn't thinking about anything but how much…"

"How much it hurt." Gibbs finished for him. "And you consider none of this an excuse for your actions?"

Tom raised his eyes from the table to meet his CO's. "No, sir." He said, softly.

"You're one helluva Marine, Tom. Which is part of the reason why I convinced the officers to let you go last night." Gibbs stood up, walked around the table, and put his hand on Tom's shoulder. Gibbs sensed that Tom already knew anything he could possibly lecture at him. "Alright… let's get this taken care of."

Tom stood, unbidden. Gibbs moved his chair out of the way with one hand.

"Bend over the table."

Tom did so, gripping the edge with both his hands. He closed his eyes at the sound of the Gunny unbuckling his belt and sliding it out of the loops. A moment passed as Gibbs secured the buckle in his hand and doubled the strip of leather over.

_CRACK!!_ The belt slashed down across the dress-uniform pants Tom was still wearing. Tom sucked in his breath and held it as three more stripes blazed across his backside.

"Let it out, Tom." Gibbs said, firmly.

Tom raggedly breathed out before gasping in more air. Gibbs laid down one more stripe before placing his hand on Tom's lower back. "I said let it out, son."

The thought raced across Tom's mind that the Gunny wasn't referring to him holding his breath. With the next _CRACK!!_ Tom let forth the sobs he had been holding in. The belt crashed down four more times before he heard Gibbs slide it back on. Tom pulled his arms up around his head, sobbing for all he was worth, letting out all of his anguish at the loss of his girl, as well as the fear he had felt earlier that morning at the thought of losing his career.

Gibbs reached down and patted his shoulder lightly, then tossed a box of Kleenex on the table. Gibbs went to the bedroom to retrieve the shoes and jacket he had stripped off the young Marine as he lay passed out. He gave Tom a few minutes to compose himself. When he entered the kitchen, Tom was standing tall, though he looked sore and his face was red. He took his affects from the Gunny.

"Sir, I give you my word that I will not touch a drop of alcohol before my 21st birthday. And I will _never_ drive a car when I shouldn't. Never again." He said, softly and firmly.

"I believe you." Gibbs said solemnly. "Hell, you give me a call on your 21st… I'll buy you your first beer." Both men cracked a smile as Gibbs showed Tom out.

End Flashback

Special Agent Gibbs was jerked from his reminisces a mere 17 minutes later by his cell phone.

"Gibbs."

"Gunny, it's Stevens. I've got good news for you."

Gibbs released a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

"I've arranged to keep your team in D.C., but I had to shuffle your team a bit."

Gibbs felt a wave of disappointment quash his elation.

"You received the files of the three replacement officers?"

"Yes."

"I was only able to circumvent one transfer, so two of them are going to have to join your current team."

"A team only has four agents, Tom, how…"

"_If_ you'll let me finish, Gunny," Tom cut him off good-humoredly, "I'm pretty pleased with the arrangement I've come up with. Have you read the transfers' personnel files?"

"No."

"Didn't think so, or you might have come up with this yourself."

Gibbs snorted impatiently. "Get on with it, Stevens."

"Don't forget I out-rank you now, Gunny."

Gibbs snorted again, but this time with laughter. "Please continue, General."

"One of them, Miller," Tom continued, "was chosen solely for the fact she has a Ph.D. in Finance. She's straight out of an internship in the FBI's white-collar crime unit. Her area of expertise is following money trails, identity theft, and the like. She's top of her game, but there's no reason she needs to be in the field. And Agent McGee's specialty is computer analysis. The same thing goes for him. The two of them can be your 'brain trust' of sorts back at headquarters."

Gibbs fought the urge to interrupt, wrapping his head around the idea.

"So your field-team would consist of Agents DiNozzo and David, along with Marshall, your other transfer, who is straight out of the Corp, by the way, headed by yourself."

"Of course," Tom continued with a smile, "as team leader, there's no reason you couldn't make the choice to bring McGee, and even Miller, along with you if you feel it necessary."

Gibbs laughed out loud.

"Before you run away with yourself, Gunny, you should know that your _director_," Tom spat the word, "over there at NCIS is not pleased with you."

"Didn't expect he would be."

"Well, I just wanted to give you a heads up. So, unless you have any questions, I need to get home to dinner. Marie'll be waiting for me."

Gibbs' thoughts flashed quickly to the beautiful young woman Tom had proudly brought to the Corps' dance a month or so after their "discussion."

"Give her my best."

"Will do, Gunny."

"Tom… thanks. I owe you one."

"I'd say we're about even now, Sir."

Gibbs hung up, smiling, and immediately hit DiNozzo's number.


End file.
